


Shattered

by katiebuttercup



Category: Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: A little bit of gore, Brother-Sister Relationships, Comfort/Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotland searches for England during the Blitz</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Improve](https://archiveofourown.org/works/672263) by [moonlighten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlighten/pseuds/moonlighten). 



Disclaimer; still not mine 

 

8th September, 1940; London, England

Scotland is mad. 

In every sense of the word, the world shifts around him, his ears assaulted with noise and chaos as vivid and deadly as any battlefield he has fought on in all his long years. But this is no battlefield; at least not a conventional one, this is London, his sisters heart and it's under attack as never before. 

And somewhere in this wretched place England is wondering around like fucking Ophelia. The anger pushes him forward, as London itself seems intent in stopping him, ancient stone and wood splintering from its moorings and falling around him, making him stagger at every turn, if he were smart he'd head back to the safety of the bunker, if he listened to every voice in his head he'd turn tail and let England alone, let her wander the streets. she's immortal and ancient and stubborn she doesn't need to be babysat. 

But she's also his baby sister and something deep inside Scotland's heart knows that England has no idea how to deal with this, the shock of the attack, the suddenness even with months of planning and strategies and plotting had left them all reeling. Pain blossomed in Scotland's chest, seeing London burn hurt him, even though in the past he had wished for the city to burn with spite in his heart but although he was loathe to admit it even to himself most days he and England and Wales were connected in a way that transcended the hatred that had flared between them for centuries. 

He reaches for his anger once more, needing it to combat the worry eating inside his stomach, if nothing else England is incredibly stupid to walk around in a fucking air raid, England brings danger to not only herself, her people but to them, the other nations, if she were captured in her current state it could throw all their lives in jeopardy, and if she were kill....

Scotland cut that thought off, she wasn't only his sister but the British Empire the strongest nation on earth even though America was consolidating power at a startling pace. She couldn't die, not like this. 

Once the thought embedded itself into his mind Scotland couldn't dislodge it, other nations had disappeared from less, and if Ludwig and his insane boss continued to bombard England's heart....

"England!" Her name is lost to the cacophony of noise and Scotland lurches forward anyway, he's found her that's all that matters. 

He forces his way through what looks like the remains of a whole street, he can't tell anymore, he doesn't even know where he is even though he could walk around London with his eyes closed. 

England is pinned to the floor, a shard of debris lodged in her thigh, blood colouring the virgin whiteness of her nightgown, her green eyes are wide and shocked, chest heaving in slow, laboured breaths. 

Scotland reacts with instinct, thousands of years of reticence at anything resembling comfort for his siblings thrown to the wayside as he bundles England into his arms, trying to ignore the emphatic sharpness of her bones, the toil of war already shedding her weight and health.

"Fuck!" He breathes because anything else seems redundant, "fuck what of you think you were doing?"

England blinks owlishly at him, "Scotland?" Her voice rattles in her chest and comes out reedy and breathy. 

He hauls her to her feet but it's clear that her legs are in no fit state to hold her meagre weight. England glares down at her legs with betrayal, "I feel so queer," she tries to massage her legs, and Scotland winces at the rivulets of blood dripping along her arms. 

"Yeah we'll that's what happens when you walk around in an air raid," 

If Wales would hear he would admonish Scotland for talking so sharply to their sister but Wales can't feel the painful rushing of his heart, his heartbeat so fast that it feels like it's trying to rip itself out of his rib cage or the relief so sharp it makes his muscles spasm even as he hauls England into his arms. 

"We thought...." He can't finish the sentence, not without poking something that burns, instead he rearranges England more comfortably even as she attempts to wriggle out of his grip, still as independent and stubborn even while bleeding. 

England retches but nothing appears, her skin pale and shining in the darkness, Scotland can see the fine bone structure of her jaw as she swallows several times, it's bad enough that she must deal with her own pain but Scotland knows she feels her people's pain, their fear and dread, Scotland can hear it at a distance like echoes in his blood, formless yet persistent. 

He runs his fingers over England's forehead as she breathes, blinking blearily and Scotland wonders just how much she can see. Without thinking he begins to draw runes over England's forehead, mentally recalling all of England's names since her childhood, ones he was sure England had forgotten, determined as she seemed to be to shed all their shared history.

England breathes a little easier the pain receding slightly from her features and Scotland feels uncomfortable enough to let her go. 

"You gave Wales quite a fright, disappearing like that. He worked himself into a right state" Scotland says, he doesn't mention he was right there with his brother. 

England watches him, dark circles like bruises on her pallid cheeks, he's glad she doesn't ask if he was worried; he doesn't know what will come put of his mouth, he's feeling entirely too honest at the moment but she shakes herself, finding her centre and when she speaks she sounds stronger. 

"We'll I suppose we should find him, set his mind at ease"

**Author's Note:**

> Please R & R and let me know what you think I had an added bit with America but cut it because I didn't know how to end it, 
> 
> As always, many thanks for moonlighten for the inspiration and the amazing series this is shamelessly borrowing from and for always entertaining my weird ideas


End file.
